


Of airports, McDonald's and nightmares

by FinnWritess



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Pining, god help these two theyre so bad at feelings, no beta we die like men, one american idiot gets lost in the uk but its fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinnWritess/pseuds/FinnWritess
Summary: “You fucking stopped to get McDonald’s?” is the first thing to come out of Schlatt’s mouth before he can stop himself. Wilbur gave him an innocuous look, taking another bite out of his burger.“I don’t know what you’re talking about man, I just got stuck in traffic.”Oh, Schlatt wanted to hurl his suitcase at himso bad.-OR-Schlatt visits Wilbur. There's a lot of pining.
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 11
Kudos: 475





	Of airports, McDonald's and nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! First fic on this account; only dropping this one here because I have some friends who know my main ao3 and wouldn't look too kindly on this pairing. Anyway, I had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy it :)

Schlatt breathed out, his breath misting in the cold London air; well, he assumed it was London since the airport was called fuckin London Gatwick, but he couldn’t really be sure. Stupid England.

He checked his phone for about the third time. No new messages, which meant he had no new information. He huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

Schlatt wasn’t known for his patience.

His small suitcase sat just next to him, and if there weren’t heaps of people entering and exiting the airport right near him, he might have just kicked it. He pulled out his phone again, almost letting out a yell at the fact that he had no notifications  _ again _ . The last text he’d received was half an hour ago, from Wilbur, claiming he “wasn’t too far out from the airport”.

His and Schlatt’s definitions of what that meant differed a lot, it seemed.

Schlatt’s phone chimed in his hand, and he couldn’t check the notification fast enough.

**Wilbur**

_ Got stuck in traffic; I’m just outside Gate 2 right now. Where are you? _

Schlatt almost wanted to laugh. Traffic. He hadn’t thought of that.

He looked up at the gate number over his head.  _ Gate 8. _ Fuck, that probably meant Wilbur was on the other side of the airport, right?

**Schlatt**

_ Just near the entrance to Gate 8 _

Schlatt curled in on himself as much as he could where he stood. The chill in the air was slowly turning into more of a bite, and if it weren’t for the fact that Wilbur had arrived at the airport now, he would have headed back inside.

**Wilbur**

_ Of course you’re on the other side of the fucking airport. Hang tight, I’ll be a few minutes. _

Schlatt snorted. Trust Wilbur to be complaining after he made Schlatt wait in the freezing cold for thirty minutes. Sooner rather than later Wilbur’s car rolled into his line of sight, and he leaned down to grip the handle of his suitcase, maybe slightly too tightly.

Wilbur grinned at him, a bright smile that Schlatt would normally have found endearing if it weren’t for the fact that Wilbur immediately took a bite out of a burger after.  _ Traffic my ass _ , Schlatt thought.

“You fucking stopped to get McDonald’s?” is the first thing to come out of Schlatt’s mouth before he can stop himself. Wilbur gave him an innocuous look, taking another bite out of his burger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about man, I just got stuck in traffic.”

Oh, Schlatt wanted to hurl his suitcase at him  _ so bad.  _

“Are you waiting until you freeze, or... ?”

Schlatt let out a low growl as he climbed into the passenger seat of Wilbur’s car. He didn’t like how disorienting it was, sitting where the steering wheel  _ should  _ have been, but it wasn’t. He also didn’t like the stupid grin on Wilbur’s face as he shovelled fries into his mouth, pulling out from the line of cars waiting to collect people.

Schlatt just glowered at him, trying to channel his anger into his gaze. Wilbur didn’t seem affected, simply holding out the fries to him.

“Want some?”

Schlatt wanted to refuse, but after travelling, he was tired and hungry, and he was still cold from standing outside, so he begrudgingly took some, stuffing them into his mouth as he watched the outside world pass by. 

“So, welcome to England,” Wilbur said after a few moments, breaking the silence between them. “We have shitty buildings and equally shitty politics.”

Schlatt huffed out a laugh. “Way to make me feel happy to be here.”

“What, you rather I’d lie to you?” 

Schlatt turned, taking in the way the sunlight captured Wilbur’s features in a way that made him look ethereal. He fought down the longing that rose up inside of him, pulling his gaze away.

“Maybe sometimes.”

**********

Schlatt took in Wilbur’s very small living room and nearly burst out laughing. “You  _ live  _ here?”

Wilbur shot him a glare as he shut the door behind them. “I know it’s small.”

“Fucking tiny is more like it.”

“Well,” Wilbur began, sounding put out, “I  _ was  _ going to offer you a bro hug to welcome you.”

The thought of hugging Wilbur made Schlatt’s throat grow dry. It was an effort to keep his expression under control, forcefully dropping it into a fake look of upset.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making it clear in his tone that he wasn’t sorry at all. Wilbur rolled his eyes, taking a half step closer.

“I’ll let it slide.” Wilbur opened his arms, and Schlatt hesitantly stepped forward into his embrace, carefully bringing his arms up around the older.

The first thing he noticed was hugging Wilbur was nothing like he’d expected; it felt warmer, safer. The second thing he noticed was how his own heart seemed to stop. Schlatt had always hated feeling emotions, and this moment was no exception.

Wilbur pulled back after a bit with a wide grin, his face slightly flushed, and Schlatt nearly melted. 

“The guest room’s just down the hall, to the left,” Wilbur said, gesturing. “I’ll let you get yourself set up.”

Schlatt pulled his gaze away from Wilbur with some effort, taking his luggage and heading down the hallway. The second he turned into the guest room and shut the door behind himself, he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He let out a barely audible sigh. He thought of Wilbur, of his bright smile, of how he looked when he was flustered, and shut his eyes with a groan.

By this point, there was no denying it; Schlatt was fucked.

**********

Three days into his stay, Schlatt was starting to get used to it. To being around Wilbur nearly every waking moment, to the awfully polluted England air, to the timezone; all of it.

The keyword is “starting”. He still nearly has a stroke anytime Wilbur smiles, and sometimes he fights to breathe in the other man’s presence, but overall he was doing fine.

That is until he is reminded by his very helpful brain that he’s here for two weeks in total, and he nearly dies all over again. In short, Schlatt is irreversibly, inevitably fucked. 

He knew the streets around Wilbur’s house enough to go for a short walk now, but he didn’t wander too far. It would be far too embarrassing if he got himself lost and had to call Wilbur.

Until suddenly it was 11 pm, and nothing around him was even vaguely familiar. No big deal, he’d just pull out his phone and use google maps. 

He got his phone out of his pocket, and his heart seemed to sink from his chest and settle into the bottom of his stomach as he realised it was dead. He always carried his charger with him, so he guessed all he could really do was try and find an outlet, and pray that Wilbur wasn’t wondering where he was.

Schlatt lifted his head, gaze level as he looked around the street he was on. His best bets for finding an outlet were probably the convenience store or the McDonald’s; he chose the latter, turning on his heel and striding up the street.

He entered, the people behind the counter too preoccupied to notice him as he slipped aside into the dining area. There were a few other people inside, and Schlatt found a table with an outlet quickly. He plugged in his phone and sat there, watching it until it finally powered on.

Almost immediately he was overwhelmed with notifications from Wilbur; missed calls and texts, each looking more frantic than the last. He took in a breath, opened his contacts and pressed call.

“Hey, Wil.”

“ _ Christ, _ Schlatt, where the fuck are you?” Wilbur’s voice sounded tight like he was on the verge of panicking, and Schlatt hated it.

“Oh, you know, out,” he said vaguely, praying he sounded nonchalant. 

“It’s eleven at night,” Wilbur said, exhaling slowly and audibly.

“You want the truth? Went for a walk, got lost,” Schlatt admitted. “But it’s fine. I’m a big man. I can handle myself.”

“Where are you?” There’s background noise that Schlatt can’t exactly place, but he gathered that Wilbur was moving. “I’m coming to get you.”

Schlatt pressed his forehead against the window of the McDonald’s. “Some pissy ass McDonald’s. I can’t see the street name from here.”

Wilbur exhaled audibly again. “Just, fuck, figure it out and send me your location.”

Schlatt grinned down at his phone like the fucker he was. “I’ll try my best.”

********

It was well after midnight by the time they arrived back at Wilbur’s place. Schlatt realised just exactly how stressed Wilbur was during the duration of their trip back, where Wilbur didn’t speak and was visibly tense. The way he’d gripped the steering wheel had looked almost painful, but Schlatt didn’t know what he could say to try and fix it.

The silence between them, once they were inside, was palpable. Schlatt swore he could cut the tension with a knife, or shoot a bullet into it and it would simply get stuck halfway through, hanging over the empty air. 

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Wilbur’s voice was tight when he finally spoke.

“I’m a big man, Wilbur,” Schlatt said before he could stop himself, wincing at how he sounded like an absolute asshole. “I can handle myself.”

Wilbur’s expression hardened. Schlatt noticed his hands were trembling slightly and felt worse about what he’d just said.

“I thought something had happened to you.”

Schlatt swallowed down the stupid response he instinctively wanted to give. “My phone died.”

Wilbur’s expression softened, just the tiniest bit. “Don’t do that again.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Schlatt replied with a stupid grin that he really didn’t feel like sporting right in that moment. Wilbur seemed to relax a little, but not much. He seemed to take a moment to consider his decision before stepping forward to pull Schlatt into a tight, not unwelcome hug.

Schlatt didn’t like this hug nearly as much as their last; Wilbur was far too tense and far too shaky. He wished he knew how to fix it, but his arsenal of weapons didn’t include anything comforting, only asshole-ish remarks and bad jokes.

When Wilbur draws back, he’s slightly teary-eyed, in a way that was almost pretty, if not given the circumstances. A lump rose in Schlatt’s throat as he swallowed, and he was sure he’d been caught staring.

“Fuck,” Wilbur muttered, dropping his head into his hands for a second before leaning forwards, pressing his lips to Schlatt’s own for a brief millisecond. “Goodnight.”

And then he was gone. Schlatt brought up a hand to ghost over his lips, standing there in shocked silence. Surely that hadn’t meant anything, right?

He managed to get himself to move again, turning down the hall to the room he was staying in. He shut the door firmly as he stepped inside, refusing to sink down against it. The kiss had meant nothing, and he knew it.

If only his heart could cooperate and slow down to make him certain it hadn’t affected him.

********

Schlatt had not slept at all. He stumbled out into the kitchen groggily, ignoring the way Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him as he took a seat at the table.

“You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Schlatt grunted, “You look handsome too.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Wilbur said, setting a cup of coffee in front of Schlatt. He watched the stream rise up from it, making no move to grasp it.

“I slept like shit.”

Wilbur snorted. “What, are you blaming me?”

“Maybe,” Schlatt said without thinking. The bewildered look on Wilbur’s face made him backtrack immediately. “I mean, it’s your fucking guest room.”

“Don’t shit talk my guest room.” Wilbur sat down across from Schlatt. He tried to ignore Wilbur’s foot bumping gently against his own.

“It’s not shit-talking if it’s the truth.” Schlatt took a sip of his coffee and immediately burned his tongue. “Ow, fuck.”

“Burn your tongue?” Wilbur asked, his tone full of mischief. “Want me to kiss it better, you big baby?”

Schlatt fought to breathe. “What, with your gross mouth? No thanks.”

Wilbur laughed, but it sounded a little strained. “Suit yourself.”

Schlatt almost wanted to ask him about the night before. About why in hell Wilbur had kissed him. Instead, his throat seemed to close over, and he swallowed down the words.

No point ruining his trip anyway, right?

***********

Five days into his stay; Schlatt was going insane. Neither of them addressed that night, and simply continued on as if nothing had happened, and Schlatt couldn’t stand it.

Yet every time he went to bring it up, he’d freeze. He couldn’t do it, and he hated that he was this much of a coward, but his vocal cords would go taut and his throat would close over and all he could do was swallow harshly and continue on like he  _ hadn’t  _ been about to address it.

Schlatt hated it, but what could he do except grin and bear it? Almost a week of his trip was done. Better he didn’t ruin it with his stupid feelings now anyway.

**********

_ There’s a loud bang. Schlatt’s ears are ringing. The world around him is dark, a blank canvas yet to be painted by an artist. _

_ Blood splatters across it. The first brushstrokes. Schlatt stares down at the figure in front of him, feels the cold metal of his gun in his hand and recognises that he’s the artist here. _

_ The weapon in his grip is his paintbrush. Wilbur’s blood is the paint. _

_ Schlatt’s shaking. He fights to breathe. The blank darkness around him slowly fills, objects and shapes forming in varying shades of red. _

_ Wilbur’s eyes bore into him. Schlatt wants to move, to try and press his hands to Wilbur’s stomach and stop the bleeding, but his body won’t let him. He’s frozen. _

_ “I’m empty,” Wilbur says, his voice sounding hollow. “Once the tube is out of paint, you throw it away. I’m empty.” _

_ Schlatt’s body moves without his consent. He picks up Wilbur, throws him over one shoulder. The landscape around him changes; he gets the feeling he walked, but can’t remember doing so. _

_ There’s a cliff in front of him. Wind whistles around him. He drops Wilbur off the edge. _

**********

Schlatt jolted upright in bed. He dropped his face into his hands, shaking slightly. 

_ It wasn’t real. _

He ran his fingers through his hair once, twice. Tried to remember how to breathe. 

Was Wilbur even alive? Did the world exist beyond this room, or was it the same darkened, blank landscape from his dream?

_ Fuck. _

Schlatt exhaled shakily and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had to be sure.

He got up. Fumbled his way to the door. Clicked on the light.

Wincing against its brightness, he rested his hand on the doorknob. Schlatt took in a deep breath and opened it. His footsteps were soft and quiet as he padded down the hallway, pausing outside of Wilbur’s door.

He reached out, and slowly opened the door. His eyes fell upon Wilbur’s sleeping frame, and he exhaled audibly, relief washing over him.

“... Schlatt?”

He froze instantly. He hadn’t meant to wake Wilbur, and felt awful about it. He took in a shaking breath.

“Hey, Wil. Nice time of night, huh?”

In the semi-darkness, Schlatt could see Wilbur sit up.  _ Shit. _

“Not planning on getting lost again, are you?”

Schlatt laughed, though it came out slightly pained. “No. That McDonald’s hadn’t been cleaned in half a fucking century, I swear. Just got up to shake off a bad dream.”

“Oh.” Wilbur’s voice sounded small but full of understanding. Somehow, Schlatt felt like he’d told him entirely too much. “Do you need some company?”

“I…” Schlatt swallowed, biting back his pride and his nerves. “Maybe.”

Wilbur shifts in the darkness. “There’s space here. Come sit down.”

Schlatt hesitated for a second before crossing the distance, sitting down heavily on Wilbur’s bed. Silence fell between them for a moment, thick and heavy.

“You died,” Schlatt managed. “In the dream.”

In the dim light, Wilbur turned to him. His expression was something akin to understanding. Wordlessly, Wilbur reached out, dragging Schlatt into a hug.

He didn’t fight it, in fact, he sunk into Wilbur’s embrace, wishing he wasn’t still trembling a little. A dream shouldn’t have fucked him up this badly, yet here he was. Schlatt buried his head in Wilbur’s shoulder.

“That night,” he said, for once his vocal cords letting him speak, “After I got lost.”

Wilbur tensed under him. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.”

Schlatt turned his head, resting his cheek on Wilbur’s shoulder. His breath fanned against Wilbur’s neck, and he was almost certain the taller shivered a little.

“You thought wrong.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Wilbur amended, his voice tight, and then it hits Schlatt.

“It meant something to you.”

Wilbur said nothing. Schlatt lifted his head, bringing a hand up to gently cup Wilbur’s cheek. The taller leaned into his touch a little.

“That kiss has been fucking me over for days,” Schlatt said, voice low. “Trying to work out if it meant anything or not.”

Wilbur breathed out shakily. “Why’d you even care?”

Schlatt didn’t answer, not verbally at least, instead leaning forwards to press his lips to Wilbur’s. Wilbur’s reaction was almost immediate, his hands coming up to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders like a lifeline. 

Wilbur’s lips tasted of coffee, and the feeling that grew in Schlatt’s chest was addictive. Eventually, though, he drew back.

“That one meant something to me,” Schlatt said after he’d caught his breath. He could see Wilbur break out into a wide smile in the dim light.

“Yeah?” Wilbur breathed out, leaning in close enough that their breath mingled.

“Yeah,” Schlatt responded before pulling him back in again.

_ Maybe,  _ Schlatt thought,  _ getting lost and having a nightmare wasn’t too bad. Not if it led to this. _


End file.
